Burning Midnight Oil
by sa-mu-uu
Summary: Zoro asks Sanji out for some private time just outside of town, and a night that begins suggestive and taunting follows a road less travelled into a sentimental territory that lies uncharted. Written for ZoSan month. Smut one shot.


Omfg this took an embarrassing amount of time to write. So many late nights. But I wanted to write something unapologetically cute and satisfy my smut writing bug at the same time, so here we are, somewhere in the nebulous void between FWP and PWP. Focus is ZoSan, of course, because it's that month and I love them. I had to rip this story from my veins because of writer's block, but it was worth it. ENJOY OR SOMETHING

* * *

Sanji steps over matted patches of reed grass, the rope handle of his lantern gnawing into his hand as he makes his way up the hillside that lies blanketed in darkness. The few scattered lights in the humble port town of Blind Harbor still flicker in the distance when he glances back over his shoulder, but the sound of the rampant nightlife has long since left his earshot. Most of his crew mates are somewhere within those homely buildings, he figures, although he hasn't seen any of them since shortly after dinner. Whatever they're up to, he's sure they're enjoying the hell out of themselves. It won't be much longer until he can say the same.

They're only one day into their week-long stay in Blind Harbor, and his body has yet to concede that he's actually on land for now. He hasn't quite gotten rid of his sea legs yet, and it shows, as he veers a little too far to the side of a rock in his path. Not enough to trip him up, but enough to his mind to stutter and pause to reevaluate where he is; at the bottom of an incline of dry, solid ground. His shirt clings to his skin as he hikes through the nighttime hot spell. It's stifling, but not uncomfortable—and even though his heart is one beat away from leaping into his throat, that feeling isn't unbearable either. He's pissed at himself for choosing a fucking cotton shirt instead of linen, but now is far from the time to be worrying about how sweaty his laundry is going to be.

Maybe tomorrow he'll deal with that, but not tonight. Tonight, according to a piece of scrap paper left folded up next to his kitchen sink, he has a date.

"Midnight, on the hill outside of town. Let's hang out," the note had said in an all-too familiar scrawl. It had taken every ounce of Sanji's willpower not to seek out his little lost swordsman early and ask if he was _sure_ he'd be able to make it that far from the ship on his own. But as Sanji lifts his gaze from the ground to the top of the hill before him, he catches sight of a dark figure underneath a cottonwood tree by the top and grins. Not only had Zoro gotten there successfully, but according to Sanji's pocket watch, he had gotten there ten minutes _early_.

 _Damn._

Part of Sanji curses his lantern for the way its glow makes Zoro look against the backdrop of hardened bark and low-hanging leaves—all warm and flush and fierce—as he trudges up the last few feet to the man's side. Zoro stands with his arms crossed over his chest, pressing wrinkles into his otherwise flawless, unbuttoned white shirt spread open over an entirely too low-cut to be trustworthy maroon v-neck. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and Sanji's attention drags down to what has to be the form-fitting twill shorts he's ever seen hugging the man's hips.

"Hey," Sanji says, every other thought stopping just shy of his lips. _You look fucking amazing. Where the hell did you get those clothes? Is your haramaki actually getting washed for once? Fuck, is that cologne? That scent is intoxicating. Shit, you have no idea how glad I am to see you._

"Yeah, hey." Zoro gives him a mile-wide smirk and an upward nod, as if reading his mind. His earrings catch the lamplight, a beacon of their own urging him closer. "You made it."

Sanji bristles for a split second at the subtle suggestion that Zoro had doubted that he _would_ make it. After all the time he'd spent getting ready, he sure as shit didn't have any intention of letting this night go to waste. The only one at risk of not making it had been Zoro, and, well, clearly that isn't an issue. "So did you," he says. "Shit, you must have left hours ago to get here with ten minutes to spare. Are you getting hungry?"

Zoro's expression shifts to a pout. "We're only twenty minutes from the harbor, you know." As if that makes a difference.

"True, but that's like half a day's travel in marimo time."

Zoro snorts and regards him with a dirty look—one that would be believable, if not for the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "...Fine. I left like an hour ago, alright? I wanted some time alone to relax before your smug ass showed up."

Sanji raises an eyebrow at that. "You sure you didn't just want to make sure I wouldn't have to wait for you here all alone?"

"Wow, your sass is in rare form today," he says, leaning back with an impressed look, the swords at his hip tapping the tree behind him with a metallic _clack_. "Remind me again why I invited you out tonight?"

Completely undeterred, Sanji saunters toward him, the lantern lowered and bouncing lightly against his leg with every swaying step. "Because... you wanted some time alone with me that badly."

"Oh? And how badly is that?" Zoro tilts his chin up a bit, his smile returning at full force. The arms across his chest fall, and he rests a heavy hand on Sanji's hip.

"Badly enough to dress like this, at least," Sanji hums and runs a finger down the shirt he has never seen before, grinning at the way Zoro's chest gravitates into his touch. Playing games like this has almost become a routine for them, but it still delights the fuck out of Sanji every time it happens. He wouldn't trade moments like these—ones where their excitement to be together bubbles just under the surface, boiling until it bursts—for anything in the world.

"Well, you're not wrong." Zoro cranes his neck to speak against Sanji's ear, not-so-subtly inhaling his scent in the process. "...You like it?"

Sanji shivers and shrugs indifferently, simultaneously bullshitting and letting his body respond honestly in ways he can't bring himself to vocalize yet. There's something about the prospect of letting Roronoa Fucking Zoro know just how gorgeous he is that terrifies him, but that… that can be addressed at another time. Preferably right after Zoro has woken up, with his clothes in disarray and creases from the hammock pressed all over his body, or right after he's finished working out, when he's a sweaty, frazzled mess that's far from this level of put together. Sanji swallows thickly and frowns as his mind provides him with perfectly rendered images of exactly that. No, he's just as stunning then as he always is. Fuck if that'll make any difference.

His inner turmoil breaks off abruptly as a thumb runs over a particularly ticklish spot on his hip bone and he has to stifle a laugh. He raises his eyes to find Zoro watching his face with a lazy smile, and it takes every bit of his self-control not to swoon at the sight. Keeping himself from melting into a puddle whenever the marimo looks at him like that is nigh impossible, but he tries, drifting back up the line he'd traced down his chest and reaching to bury his fingers in Zoro's hair. He can feel the man's breath trail from his ear, to his cheek, to his lips as Zoro finds his center in front of him again.

"You really surprised me," Sanji says, and the hoarseness of his own voice catches him by surprise. "...Leaving a note like that, I mean."

"Yeah? Why's that?" Zoro smiles wider, either pleased with the tone Sanji has taken thanks to him, or happy that his plan had worked. Maybe a bit of both. But oh, no, Sanji will not stand for that level of self-satisfaction at his expense.

"I actually wasn't sure that you could write."

Now is the part when the swords at Zoro's side would rupture from their sheathes, rushing at him from all angles in a flurry of "fuck you" that forces his legs overhead. But instead, Zoro grabs his shoulders and shoves him up against the tree with enough force to rattle the branches, muttering a mirthful "shut up" against his mouth before tugging the man's lip between his teeth. Sanji's heart throbs furiously, and even though it isn't the first time Zoro has ever done that to him, the action still sends a shockwave through his veins. He chalks the feeling up to being in the heat of the moment, insisting to himself that it has nothing to do with how damn suave his man is being, before latching onto his belt loops and pulling him into a searing kiss. Zoro tightens his grip on Sanji's shoulders and indulges him in a sweet groan, not forcing him any further but still responding with every ounce of enthusiasm. His breath feels feverish—even in the suffocating summer island heat, it _smolders_ —sweltering and overbearing between each frantic, second-long kiss. Sanji has to reach up and catch him by the back of his head in order to keep him pressed to his lips for more than a moment, which is endearing in a way, if not testing his patience.

Somewhere in the distance, a hawk cries out three shrill, echoing caws, and Zoro breaks from his trance long enough to pull back with a shaky breath. "...C'mon, idiot. Let's not do this here," he says, taking Sanji's hand from the back of his head and locking their fingers. Before Sanji can ask what he means, Zoro tugs him forward and nods toward the other side of the hill. "Unless you're into the idea that anyone in town might be watching us, I mean."

As unlikely as it seems that anyone would really be able to see them at all, let alone be able to make out what they're actually doing in the darkness, the idea of genuine privacy is extremely tempting. So Sanji grins and follows along as Zoro quickly guides them over the crest of the hill just beyond where they had stood, delighting in the way the other man's tight grip pulls him in close as they make their way to the other side.

The land below them stretches out uninterrupted as far as Sanji can see, squinting out with his lantern held high. Once his eyes have taken a moment to adjust, it's easier to make out the distant landscape, where the town's meager glow gives way to moonlight. Long, golden grass lays stagnant until a taunting breeze flits past, breathing life into the blades for a moment before letting them settle again. Patterns of wildflowers, trees, and embedded boulders litter the plain in sparse smudges; and all Sanji can think is that this place is perfectly Zoro.

They slow to a walk halfway down the decline on the other side, and Zoro wordlessly pulls him down to sit on the grass with one graceless movement. They settle in beside another lit lantern and a bag on the ground that Sanji recognizes as belonging to his boyfriend, and his heart warms at the implication that this part of their outing was entirely planned.

"So this is where you wanted to take me?" he asks, watching as the man gently sets his swords beside him on the ground.

"That was the idea, yeah."

In all honesty, Zoro did a pretty fucking amazing job picking a date location, for all the lack of experience he's had in doing so. Looking out into the shadowy expanse in front of them, Sanji has a hard time imagining somewhere he'd rather be. A hotel room would have been okay, maybe, but even opening the windows wouldn't have provided them with the pure, fresh air they're getting out here. He had almost forgotten what saltwater-free air tastes like. And it's… really good, actually—a delicate mixture of dry grass, jasmine, and hot earth that could never be found on the ocean.

"It's beautiful," Sanji admits, entirely willing to give credit where credit is due. As if on cue a horde of fireflies light up in scattered blinks near his feet, drifting their way left across the side of the hill. Somewhere in the distance crickets chirp in syncopated rhythm, and he smiles, wondering when the last time he just sat down and soaked in the sights on land like this was.

Zoro shrugs, but a hint of satisfaction glints in his eyes as he watches the fireflies meander unsteadily past him, like a band of wandering children in the night. "Anywhere would have been fine with me, but you're such a sucker for pretty shit like this, so..."

Well, he can't argue with that. Sanji takes in a long, deep breath through his nose, and leans forward. "Either way," he starts slowly, propping his elbows up on his knees. "We're here now. So, what's your plan?"

"Oh, right. This." Zoro sits up a little straighter and reaches into the bag beside him, pulling out a bottle of Northern Pinot Noir that looks far too familiar to be new. He pointedly avoids eye contact as if already anticipating the scolding he would normally—and rightfully—get. Well, maybe tomorrow. But not tonight.

"Tch, you little thief." Sanji frowns at him, letting out a huff that flutters his bangs. He shrugs the drawstring bag off of his shoulders and pulls out a bottle of aged sake and the box of onigiri he'd made after discovering Zoro's note, holding them up with an unimpressed look. "And to think I went out of my way to buy us some booze on the way here. What a waste of time."

"Who's little?" Zoro grunts, his nose scrunching in distaste.

Sanji tries to stifle a chuckle, unwilling to give up the displeased act quite yet. "Not going to say anything about the thief part, huh?"

"Well, no. I did take it." To his merit, Zoro does look a little apologetic, flashing one of those disgruntled frowns that Sanji is coming to realize means he feels a little bad about something, but doesn't really regret it either. "I know it's your favorite, but I wasn't sure where else to find some. If you want money to get more, then I can—"

"Stop right there." Sanji holds up a hand to cut him off. "You and I both know you're broke as fuck." Zoro frowns, and opens his mouth to speak again before getting cut off once more. "It's fine, marimo, really. I've been looking for an excuse to crack this open again anyway, so… thanks."

Zoro stays quiet at that, his lips pressed in a tight line. But his expression softens after a moment, and he nods before setting the wine on the grass between them. Sanji follows in suit, placing his own bottle against the box of food to keep it from rolling away before retrieving what Zoro had brought, and pulling the cork out with a hollow _pop_. He hadn't been counting on drinking wine tonight, but hell if he doesn't like the idea. He breathes in through his nose, taking in the black cherry and rose petal-like scent before taking a short swig. Liquid silk with an earthy, rich taste massages his palate on the way down, and part of him wonders if there's any possible way that Zoro could have consciously picked this wine to match their destination so well. Maybe he's just really that lucky.

When he looks over, Zoro is already obliterating the sake and onigiri he'd brought along, not even bothering to hide the bright smile that overtakes his face as he throws back a fifth of the bottle in one fluid motion like the pro that he is.

"How are they?" Sanji asks, watching carefully out of the corner of his eye as Zoro starts devouring his second rice ball.

"They're okay," Zoro hums flatly, before adding a quiet, "... _Really_ okay."

Sanji snorts, chugging some of his drink indignantly and glaring off to the side. Just one look at the man's face is plenty enough evidence that the food is a hell of a lot better than "okay"; Zoro's not fooling anyone. "You're so full of garbage, you know that?"

"I will be after a few more of these," Zoro replies with an infuriating smirk, gesturing to the remainder of a rice ball before shoving the rest into his mouth. He leans back onto the grass with a happy sigh through his nose, chewing and swallowing at a pace that clearly proves he's enjoying the flavor, and even though Sanji will never admit it aloud, that's enough.

"Keep spewing shit like that," he begins with a lot less venom than intended, leaning back on his elbows. "And my foot's going down your throat next."

"Right." Zoro takes another long drink, looking up at the full moon high above them. "You and I both know you can do shit with that fancy-ass wine in your system."

While that definitely isn't quite true—he's hardly had enough to make much of a difference yet—Sanji lets that slide in favor of another issue. "Is that why you brought this along? So I'd be less prepared to kick your ass?"

"Not exactly. I just thought it would be nice to share a drink for a bit," he states on a heavy exhale, and Sanji's skin crawls excitedly at the scent of pure liquor noticeable on his breath even from a distance. "Y'know, to enjoy the quietness out here."

Zoro had definitely thought right; it _is_ nice to drink together and appreciate the peace. Being able to hear himself think is a strange feeling—not one Sanji could probably ever get used to at this point in his life, but still something worth appreciating when the extremely rare opportunity presents itself. It's not that he's bothered by the rampant energy on the Sunny—or on Baratie where he'd grown up, for that matter. Of course he loves it. But there is something to be said for that feeling he gets when his ears actually have to work to take in the ambient noise.

"...Something the matter, Cook?"

Sanji looks over to find Zoro watching him with a furrowed brow and curious eyes. What's he going on about now? Of course nothing's wrong, it's just the opposite; everything is fucking great. Wonderful, even. "No, it's just…" he trails off, trying to think of something to say to ease the man's mind without gushing uncontrollably and embarrassing the hell out of himself. "I was thinking that this might be worth making a toast or something."

That seems to work just fine, as Zoro deflates a little and leans back with one elbow propping him up casually on the grass. He nods slowly, a grin growing on his face as he mulls over the idea. "Alright, sure. To what?"

Sanji already has one on the tip of his tongue, raising his drink up with a smile. "To damn good weather, and even better company."

Zoro huffs a laugh and taps their bottles together with a heavy _clunk_. "Yeah, I can drink to that. Cheers."

They take a drink in unison, both of them falling back on the lush, untouched grass with a loud, satisfied exhale. The burning sensation settles high in Sanji's chest, and he inwardly thanks his past self for having the foresight to eat something before coming out. Drinking on a full stomach is a thousand times more fun than trying to on an empty one.

"You sure you don't want to be back there enjoying the town with everyone?" Sanji asks, blades of grass tickling his cheek as he speaks. He really doesn't want to head back, though, at least not any time soon. He'll happily join the rest of their crew for some evening shenanigans every other night of their stay on the island, but he's intent on making this one last.

"We can check it out tomorrow night." Zoro rolls his shoulders and stretches out his legs, his messy hair blending into the long grass as he gets comfortable in his spot. "Right now, I'd rather be right here."

xxx

Half a bottle and a few outrageous stories and bouts of laughter later, Sanji flops over onto his stomach with a heavy sigh, rubbing at his tinted cheeks with the back of his hand as if doing so would make the alcohol-induced rosiness go away. But it only serves to make the heat burn even more, and he gives up, conceding himself to looking like the total lightweight he is for the time being. Besides, Zoro probably won't call him out on it; they've gotten most of their ribbing out of the way already, having moved on to ranting about other things instead. Shooting the shit with Zoro like this is quickly becoming one of his new favorite pastimes, and he'd gladly do so until the sun comes up, but a new temptation springs up in his mind and he figures it's about time to switch it up a bit.

"Hey, moss head. Can I tell you a secret?"

Zoro raises an eyebrow, looking over at him from his spot in the grass with an expression that's somewhere between surprised and impressed. "You feeling the booze that much already, curly brows?"

"Nah, not really." Maybe a little. "There's just something I've been meaning to tell you for a while, and I never really got around to it."

There's a short silence between them filled only with cicadas humming somewhere in the distance, before Zoro finally speaks up. "Okay, go for it," he says candidly. "What's the secret?"

Sanji chews on his bottom lip, idly thumbing the mouth of the wine bottle in his hand. He keeps his gaze glued to the ground, closely studying the tiny flowers that weave in and out of the grass in tiny knots. "Promise me you won't tell anyone that I'm telling you this."

"I-... Huh? Yeah, of course." He can hear a rustling sound coming from next to him, and glances over to see Zoro shifting onto his side to face him. The swordsman props himself up on his elbow, with his mostly emptied bottle in his free hand and a gravely serious look on his face. "If that's what you want, then I promise. What is it?"

A snicker bubbles in Sanji's chest, but he catches it, taking a long, steady breath. "So… you know how you love taking those naps in the afternoon?"

"Uh…" Sanji can almost see the gears behind Zoro's eyes whirr into breakneck speed as the man tenses his shoulders uncomfortably. Oh, this is going to be too good. "Yeah, what about 'em?"

Before he has the chance to consider them, the words are out in a slew of giggles that make his chest hurt as he hides his face in the grass. "Luffy and Usopp… they've been trying to plant fucking _seeds_ in your hair every day while you've been asleep for the past two weeks."

"What the fuck?!" Zoro throws himself up to a seated position, violently scratching at his hair as if he'll actually find anything there now. When he realizes that the seeds aren't there—fallen out somewhere, probably scattered all over the actual grass on the deck as he'd gone about his day—he slouches over with a heavy sigh, peering over at Sanji with a sour glare. "And, what, you didn't try to stop them?"

"Well, I might have tried to reason with them a couple of times." More accurately, after he'd discovered their prank, he'd spent the better part of the afternoon flip-flopping between hysterical laughter and chiding them for being idiots; but on the off chance that they were maybe _possibly_ onto something, he had let it slide for a while. If only because they weren't causing any real damage, and Usopp's concept of a "mobile flower garden" had really struck a chord in him—a devilish, Zoro-teasing chord. Some habits never die. "Remember, you can't tell them I told you. You promised!"

"Damn it," Zoro mutters, tipping his bottle all the way back to swallow the last little splash of sake. "I'm gonna get even with them, just you watch."

"How? Gonna challenge them both to a duel or something?" As great as that would be to watch, the prospect of cleaning Usopp off of the floorboards doesn't sound like fun. And the likelihood of their captain learning anything from the experience is practically nonexistent.

Zoro thinks for a moment, then grins wide, his teeth catching the lamplight. "I'll do 'em one better. Next time they hit the baths, I'll steal their clothes and cover the floor in lube."

Wow. Now _there's_ an idea. Sanji does his best to hide how impressed he is, shaking his head in mock disapproval as he rolls onto his back, stretching his arms out on the hillside. "Oh, sure, sounds like a great plan. Prank back a pair of experts. What do you want me to cook for your funeral service after you do that?"

Zoro takes the last rice ball out of its box and takes a spiteful bite, before his irritated tension melts and rolls off him in waves as he chews and swallows. "More of these. Hell, just bury me with 'em."

Sanji's heart swells up into his ears when he hears the man's thinly veiled praise and he laughs brightly in response, reaching over far enough to brush his fingertips appreciatively along Zoro's arm. His skin is even hotter than usual, all feverish from good booze and the humid air around them. But it's a nice sensation, and Sanji lets out a complacent hum when he feels a warm hand clasp around his bare forearm. Part of Zoro's palm is slightly wet from the beads of sake that had dripped down the side of the bottle he'd been holding, but that's easy to ignore in favor of wall of heat suddenly sliding up against his side and the leg that nestles on top of his. He can't stop the smile that tugs at his cheeks when he looks over to find Zoro's face right next to his, and he's sure he must look like a lovesick puppy with the way his inner brow scrunches up and his teeth tug on his lower lip. Still, it's probably not the first time he's looked so ridiculous in a moment like this.

"Talking about my death gets you excited, huh?" Zoro murmurs, and Sanji doesn't miss the subtle roll of his hips as he settles in closer. "That's weird even for you."

"Yeah, that's definitely what it is," Sanji replies, the sarcasm dripping from his words like a thick sauce. He sets his empty bottle aside, only half-listening to it roll a little and then stop while his subconscious navigates his fingers past Zoro's two layers of shirts to affectionately caress his waist. "It doesn't have a damn thing to do with how enticing you are at all."

Zoro scoffs, the exhale coming out hot against Sanji's neck. "Right, you're just a pervert. I almost forgot."

Sanji doesn't protest—in that moment, he can hardly deny that it's true. He withdraws his hand to reach up and trace an invisible line along Zoro's jaw, momentarily mesmerized as he feels it tense under his touch for a second before going ever so slightly slack. "Then should I help you remember…?" His gaze hones in on Zoro's lips as they separate a hair's breadth; he looks so alluring like that, with a light blush over his nose and cheeks, and the anticipation written all over his face.

Zoro only offers up a breathy groan in response, and Sanji's fingertips skid past his ear as the other man leans in to kiss him softly. He sucks in a quiet gasp at the feather-like sensation as Zoro kisses him a second time, and a third, his eyes fluttering shut and his fingers reflexively slipping into the short hair that grazes his wrist. His heart sways languidly like a sailboat on calm waters, and he wonders briefly what in the world he ever did to deserve this. Against all odds, he's been falling in love slowly and intensely with a man that's so utterly enchanting—in every way he thought impossible—that his charm simply seeps into the universe all around him to make everything just as wildly enamoring as he is. And when he feels Zoro rise over top of him, pressing his shoulders back into the velvety grass, he can only pray that the thoughts running through his mind are mutual.

Zoro's knees settle like iron bars on either side of his hips to lock him in place, and his hand slips underneath the crown of Sanji's head, protecting it from the solid ground in a way that's hardly necessary but still gut-wrenchingly thoughtful. Sanji paws at the man's hard, slightly damp chest and eagerly parts his lips, whimpering as Zoro dives inside, leaving traces of his overwhelmingly alcoholic taste over every surface he can reach. He lets himself be trapped by the other man, happy to let Zoro do whatever he wants—as long as what he wants includes staying so close that their bodies might just melt together from the heat and pressure.

Unfortunately for him, that is apparently not the other man's plan. With one last firm, deliberate kiss, Zoro leans back with his fists still balled in the cloth on Sanji's shoulders. A protest falls dead on Sanji's lips when he catches sight of the frustrated, bewildered look on his boyfriend's face. "What?" he whispers, only recognizing that he's spoken when he hears himself.

"There's no way you're doing this just to fuck with me, right?"

Sanji lets out a short laugh that sounds exactly as nervous as he suddenly feels with the man's change in demeanor, his mind running a mile a minute trying to work out just what the hell Zoro is talking about. "Doing what, kissing you in this big, grassy, _very_ uninhabited field? Yes, fucking might be something I have in mind."

He watches the man swallow hard, and the realization dawns on him that, _oh_ , he's serious. "That's not what I meant, Cook."

Sanji's stomach twists as he studies the man's troubled expression, feeling his heart sink from its insurmountable high for the first time all night. Zoro has seriously been worrying about this, hasn't he? How? Since when? The idea that Sanji could be anything other than totally devoted and genuinely pining for the man is completely unfathomable to him. His feelings are as obvious to him now as salt is salty, for fuck's sake. But exactly how obvious is that, outside of his own head? "Zoro…" he starts slowly, reflexively dropping the pet names. He hates the way his hand falters a bit as he reaches out to caress the man's arm, but his need to touch Zoro overrides his desire to keep his nerves to himself. "Do you trust me?"

"We're nakama," Zoro says, as if that were the most obvious answer in the world. In any other situation, that would be enough—trust is supposed to be non-negotiable between nakama, after all. But this time, he needs more.

"I know. That's why I need you to answer me." Sanji looks up at him earnestly, pressing the man to giving him a more direct response. This is important, and he needs to make sure he understands exactly where he stands before he says another word.

Zoro's line of sight locks onto his, staring him straight in the eye for a long moment. There's something there, guarded and stern, with a layer of affection warming his eyes from just under the surface. His grip on Sanji's shoulders disappears, and for a second Sanji thinks he might go; but he remains perched on top of his hips, his gaze still holding Sanji's captive as his hand caresses his cheek. The back of his fingers graze over Sanji's skin, leaving behind a trailing tickle before brushing his hair aside and tucking it behind his ear. Sanji squints a bit as his vision adjusts to seeing with both eyes; and when he does, he takes in a soft gasp.

If he'd thought the sight of Zoro had been beautiful before, seeing him with both eyes and the depth of the landscape properly registering behind him is utterly mind-numbing. His whole entire being glows under the light of their lanterns, with the moon illuminating him from behind among a sea of stretched-out clouds. In that moment, he looks every bit as supernatural as people like to say he is. Sanji nearly melts into the grass, feeling Zoro's stare drag along every inch of his face—what he's looking for is anyone's guess. A slow, steady blush blooms on his cheeks as the desire to embrace the hell out of the man staring into his soul grows beyond any reasonable limit, threatening to burst through his chest like a tidal wave to drown them both. But just as he can feel himself reaching his breaking point, Zoro smirks and leans down, pressing a kiss to his bare forehead and breathing out a quiet, "I've always trusted you."

The need to give in to his staggering emotions rears its big, passionate head, and for the first time in his budding relationship with the swordsman, he resolves to be very vocal and _very_ honest, his pride be damned. He wraps his arms around Zoro to hold him as he sits up to face him evenly. Zoro slides from his hips onto the grass, letting out an irritated noise as Sanji folds his legs to block him in and guides Zoro's legs to cross behind his back. It's the perfect position to hold him closely—with their noses barely touching, and their foreheads pressed together, as if doing so would allow their thoughts pass back and forth without bothering with words. But as wonderful as that would be, he still needs to speak.

"Oh, _mon chou_ ," he manages to say quietly, cupping the man's aggravated face in both hands. He runs through all the things he's wanted to say for ages, searching for somewhere to start within the mountains of praise and worship he's let build up within the confines of his own mind. "You really mean that?"

"Yeah." Zoro tilts his head in Sanji's grasp, and idly nips at the man's palm in such a way that sucks the breath from his lungs for a moment. "Wouldn't say it if it weren't true."

And yes, Sanji knows it's true—he's seen it more times than he can count, in the man's eyes when they're the only two left awake in the middle of the night, or in his posture on the battlefield when they stand together staring death in the face. But it's a whole different experience to hear him say it like this. "Then believe me when I say I'm not fucking with you," Sanji urges him with the rawness born of an intoxicated man, throwing caution to the wind. "I love you, you shitty idiot. I mean, I really, _really_ —"He cuts himself off just in time to swallow back the knot that tightens in his throat. "...Really do. So much that it fills my heart to bursting whenever I see you; whenever I even hear you speak. So don't ever think that I feel anything less for you, got it?"

Zoro turns his gaze to the side, a dark red washing over his face as he grits his teeth in embarrassment. "Okay, okay, I get it! Just shut up already!"

Now that's the Zoro he loves to see—one of many, if he's being honest, but there's something about an embarrassed Zoro that's so deliciously criminal it should be worth the man's bounty all on its own as far as he's concerned.

"Why?" Sanji smiles victoriously, his fingers drifting down to scratch under the man's chin as if to soothe a big cat. "Getting a little flustered, Marimo-kyun?"

The other man's expression twists into one of those I'm-going-to-stab-you kinds of looks that's difficult to take seriously with his relentless blushing, and he leans back and away from him, with his hands on the grass and his knees riding up under Sanji's arms. "No, I'm not! It's just weird to hear all that out loud. I mean, you're… _you_."

Sanji takes the opportunity to thumb at Zoro's _very_ spread thighs, putting on the best pout he can muster. "Is it that hard to believe that I'd want to be with you this badly? Have you seen you?"

Zoro offers up a defiant shrug, with a look on his face that says that he stands by what he'd said. He's clearly trying to look indifferent, but he still shifts into Sanji's wandering hands, making Sanji's fingertips slide over the obviously developing problem that's fighting against his waistband. Shit, he couldn't possibly be more adorable if he tried.

"Then I'll just have to keep saying it until your mossy brain accepts it as fact," Sanji begins again, leaning forward. He handily acknowledges the man's swelling cock with a knead of his palm, his tone dropping to a low growl. "...Until it's ingrained in that head of yours that I'm fucking smitten with you."

A short, uneven breath graces his ear, and he gives another languid, heavy-handed stroke before he can't stand the distance anymore and uses his free hand to guide Zoro back up against him, kissing slowly but eagerly at his neck, like the man's skin is bathed in nectar. "Fuck, I… You sound..." Zoro tries to get the words out between gritted teeth, his head rolling back to allow for much better access. "You sound ridiculous, saying stuff like that."

Sanji looks at him suspiciously, dragging his tongue down to the man's collarbone. Is that really what he thinks? Sanji isn't in the business of doubting Zoro often, but with the way he's reacting, he figures it's worth a little more… experimenting. He tugs the hem of Zoro's shirt out of the way to sink his teeth into the junction of his shoulder, reveling in both the mild, salty taste and the way Zoro jolts and shudders in his arms. After sucking a small mark into his skin, Sanji cranes his neck to kiss the man's jaw, his cheek, his temple, laying the affection on thick before asking in the most innocent voice, "Does that mean you _don't_ want me to tell you exactly what I thought of you when I saw you, earlier tonight?"

Much to his pleasure, Zoro swallows thickly. He doesn't reply, the heavy silence stretching on before rustling leaves and a burst of chattering birds from on of the trees down the hill fill the air. The flock rushes by overhead, wings flapping loudly, though it doesn't manage to interrupt their brief staring contest. "...I wouldn't hate it," he finally says, his face burning as something that looks like realization settles across his features.

"Oh? You wouldn't?" Sanji perks up a little, shaking his hair loose from his ear to let his bangs fall back over his face. He doesn't fix it when some of it fans across his nose, knowing full well that Zoro can't get enough of him when his hair is a mess—and the more overwhelming he can make this for him, the better. "That's good. Because I've been dying to let you know gorgeous you were, looking so cocky with those mouthwatering arms crossed over your chest, and that fucking smile of yours that could bring anyone to their knees practically glowing in the lowlight. Marimo… Do you have any idea what you do to me, just by existing?"

Zoro tugs his lip between his teeth, muttering a quiet "oh, shit…" as he vacantly runs his hands through Sanji's hair, knotting his fingers in and caressing behind his ears with a hazy, muddled expression.

"I wanted those clothes off of you the second I saw them," Sanji goes on, his confidence boosted by the amazing reaction he's getting for this. "Even though you look so goddamn good in them that it should be fucking illegal. And _that way you teased me_..." The last words come out lavishly gushing. "Fuck, I live for that shit."

"This is nuts…" Zoro breathes, his voice rough and his hands pull back to obscure his face in such a rare expression of modesty that must have something to do with the alcohol, because Sanji is reluctant to allow himself to believe his words alone could affect him so thoroughly. Still, it feels incredibly good to get all of that off of his chest—and the fact that Zoro is so responsive is a dream come true.

"Believing sweet talk like this is part of trusting me too, you know," he says, wondering if he perhaps might have overdone it a bit. He had no idea how much of this is actually getting through to him, as much as he hopes that it all is. He watches Zoro closely, looking for any sign of how he's feeling about all of this, his heartbeat getting faster and faster every second the man goes without moving or saying anything. But then the hands leave his hair, latching onto his shoulders with enough force to startle him out of his thoughts. His eyes go wide as Zoro suddenly presses his mouth to his, bites hard at his lip, and swipes his sake-marinated tongue through his mouth in one fluid, thorough motion before he draws back and forces Sanji's legs further apart.

"Put your knees down," Zoro says, and Sanji immediately does so, letting his legs stretch out onto the grass on either side of the man with a puzzled look. But any query he could make evaporates into thin air when the man slides down, shifting back on the hill far enough to both stay on his knees, and lower his eye level to Sanji's throbbing, irritatingly restrained erection.

"What're you doing down there?" Sanji asks, knowing full fucking well what Zoro is doing down there. The way the tip of his tongue slides over his bottom lip as he settles between Sanji's legs gives him away in an instant. Subtlety is not the man's strong suit.

"Showing you just how much I trust you," Zoro answers simply, punctuated by the metallic _clack_ of Sanji's belt buckle coming undone.

His inner voice explodes into a chorus of _"Oh fuck, oh fuck? Oh fuck!"_ as his Zoro guides him to lift his hips, dragging the hem of his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free. The relief of being liberated from the constraints of his clothing paired with the thick, humid heat of the night air shrouding his cock makes his breath hitch as Zoro looks at him with a bold smile. So this is where their night had been going—not all that surprising for them, given their developing habits, but still mind-numbingly thrilling. And, hell, the fact that Zoro is pleased enough with him to initiate a fucking blowjob of all things only adds to the excitement.

Radiating fresh confidence, Zoro sinks even closer to the ground and presses a kiss to the side of Sanji's cock, inhaling deeply before letting out a steamy breath that makes his yearning spike. Sanji squirms against the grass, watching with glossy eyes as Zoro nudges his cock with his cheek, subtly giving him a look inside of his hot, glistening mouth as he drags his tongue up the side.

"Shit, that's so sexy... You dirty little demon," Sanji purrs honestly, running his thumb across the man's temple. A chuckle low in Zoro's chest takes him by surprise, and the tip of his cock bumps against Zoro's plush lips before they part and nestle around the sensitive head. Zoro's fingers curl into the grass on either side of Sanji's body like a vice, steadying himself as he swallows the aching length all at once.

In a moment of pure ecstasy and horror, it hits Sanji like a whole fuckton of bricks that there's absolutely nothing but his own willpower stopping him from throat fucking Zoro right now. That fact is almost definitely part of what the man means by "showing him how much he trusts him," he realizes, and he inwardly groans as he tries desperately to keep himself restrained, his hands finding Zoro's in the grass and his heels digging into the ground so hard he's certain to get dirt in the stitching of his shoes. But he can hardly bring himself to give a damn about some shitty dirt when Zoro hums around him and pulls back, giving the tip a firm suck before diving back for more.

Sanji pitches his head back with a tight hiss, gritting his teeth reflexively until he remembers that there's no need to be quiet when they're so far away anyone else, and he allows himself to empty his lungs with an airy, unfettered moan. Zoro responds eagerly, his fingers flexing and pulling at the blades of grass under his hands as his earrings jingle with every effortless slide and bob of his head. Sanji can't take his eyes off of him—and not even the stunning scenery around them can hold a fucking candle to him like this, with his dark eyelashes fanned down and his angular eyebrows knitted in concentration, his face a crystal clear testament to his fixation. The beads of sweat hidden in his short, unkempt hair glitter with every movement, bringing the stars in the sky to shame in comparison to him.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Sanji moans, his heart throbbing wildly in his chest. "My radiant jade. Fuck, Zoro..."

Zoro's face burns red and he slips off of Sanji's cock with a wet _pop_ , his tongue flicking along the slit before he kisses his way down to the base. "Tell me what you like, Cook," he says, his voice thick and heavy. "Help me out here."

"What I like? I…" Sanji trails off, trying his damnedest to form a coherent thought. He loves everything about their situation at this moment, but his streak of honesty up to this point hasn't been built on ambiguity; that wouldn't be helpful to anybody. So he forces himself to focus past the tongue working his length, taking in the sight and sensations together until his attention gets absorbed by the loose fabric hanging from Zoro's neck. He can just scarcely see the man's bare chest beyond it, the realization making something warm settle heavily in his gut. "I really fucking like that I can see down your shirt from up here," he admits, chewing on the inside of his lip as he takes in the slightly obscured view. Shit, he really is a pervert, isn't he? "Getting a glimpse of your perfect chest like that is so damn erotic."

"Y'mean like this?" Zoro asks, dipping a single hooked finger into his shirt to tug the low, v-shaped hem down ever so slightly. The lanterns cast a dramatic shadow on the cleavage of his pecs, and Sanji can feel himself salivating at the sight. The dim, orange glow makes it all the more alluring, every detail that he can discern making even more of an impact on his thirsty eyes.

"Yeah, just like that," he replies, the words coming out more fervid than he'd expected. Zoro hums thoughtfully in response and settles his hands back into the grass, his thumbs slipping through Sanji's belt loops in a merciful act to help the man keep himself grounded as his mouth descend onto his cock again. Sanji doesn't miss the way his swordsman shifts his hips down to tilt his chest toward him—and if any ounce of his blood wasn't pulsing through his enveloped cock at the moment, he's fairly certain it would be spilling from his nose. A shudder wracks his body as he watches in awe, gawking at the subtle roll of Zoro's torso every time the man slides down, panting helplessly with every hard suck. The pace Zoro sets on him is impossibly steady, unhurried but quick enough to never allow him the chance to catch his breath.

"Your taste is—mmph—the best," Zoro mutters around his cock as he pulls back, licking at his length and sucking at the underside. Something in Sanji's brain short circuits at the words, and he bites his lip and hides his face in the crook of his arm to keep from either screaming or shooting a load all over the man's tongue. Possibly both.

"Damn it, that's playing dirty," Sanji wheezes, even though it really isn't—he's not the only one allowed to make such audacious declarations. But even such simple praise, when it comes from Zoro, functions as a complete mind-eraser as he struggles to compute it properly. Is this how he had made Zoro feel earlier? He certainly hopes so, because as presumptuous of him as it might be, he fucking loves the way it feels. "Y-you need to get off me, or I'm going to—n-nngh—come in your mouth," he warns, his stomach muscles giving up on keeping him upright as he falls back onto his forearms, his eyes still glued to Zoro's radiant face.

Zoro shakes his head, the movement making Sanji's cock slide along the inside of the man's cheeks as he hums a lazy dismissal and tugs the thumbs in his belt loops down more. A strangled, confused noise erupts from Sanji's throat as he feels the tip of the head slide further, rubbing against a squishy wall before curving down. That… that's the opposite of getting off him.

"Oh fuck, Zoro," he whines, half in aggravation and half in rapture. That settles it; he'll follow this man to the ends of the universe. Having no other outlet between the solid ground and the man whose chin is pressed into the teeth of his zipper, his climax grabs him by the shoulders and thrusts him back into the grass, sending spasms down his legs and a blinding, hot flood rushing through his cock that Zoro thoroughly sucks out of him. Sanji can feel the sweet sting of his eyes watering as Zoro swallows once, twice, and a third time around him, before hauling himself back and sitting up, wiping at his saliva-coated lips with the back of his hand without batting an eye.

"I told you… to pull back…" Sanji says between heavy breaths as he comes back to his senses, looking up at Zoro with a smile that betrays how annoyed he sounds.

"Oops," Zoro mumbles in a noncommittal apology, and Sanji hazily takes note of the slight lack of breath behind his voice as well. "I guess it's easy to get lost on a dick like yours, even for me. My bad."

A heavy blush washes over Sanji's face at that obnoxiously sexy and entirely questionable attempt at flattery, and he forces the relaxed muscles in his arms to push himself back up off the ground. He wordlessly reaches forward to curl his fingers into Zoro's shirt, dragging him in for a sloppy kiss that the man hums into, before his strength returns at full-force and he shoves him backward onto the grass.

"Hey!" Zoro gasps, the momentum sending him sliding slightly down the hill on his back in a way that will surely leave grass stains, his chin tucked to his chest to keep him looking up at Sanji despite the compromising, hips-over-head position he's fallen into. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Sanji hums in thought, watching Zoro shift below him. That's an easy question to answer; he's setting himself up to return the favor. He's going to show Zoro just how much he appreciates him, to give him what he undeniably deserves, to make sure this is a night he absolutely never forgets. He wants to hear the man crumble under his own ministrations. And, more than anything, he wants Zoro to feel even better than he had, if such a thing is even possible. "You sucked me off that well, said something that hot, and you thought I'd just let you get away with it?" He lifts the man's left leg over his shoulder, pressing his lips to the bare skin by his knee just below where the fabric of his shorts hang. "No... I think it's time for a little retaliation." He nips into flesh of Zoro's calf muscle to prove his point, holding the leg firmly as it twitches in his grasp.

Zoro turns his head to the side with a gasp, coincidentally giving Sanji a clear view of the angry, red mark on his neck as he reaches for something, anything to hold onto, his elbow knocking the long since discarded wine bottle beside him with a hollow _thunk_. He settles for knotting his fingers in the grass again, his fingers growing tighter and tighter as Sanji nuzzles his way up the man's thigh, his free hand tracing aimless patterns into the toned muscle where his shirt rides up on his stomach. Scattered, blinking lights of fireflies float around his sprawled out body, and Sanji's expression softens as one of them rests on the man's slowly heaving chest not too far from his own fingers.

"Cook, you—…" Zoro trails off with a quiet exhale, and Sanji's heart kicks at his ribcage in response to the the savoury sound. His voice is so sweet, but so frustrated, and it both excites the hell out of him and deters him all at once. Something is the matter. Maybe the position is too uncomfortable? Or something is on his mind again? Whatever it is, Sanji needs to know.

"What's wrong? Talk to me, baby." His hand comes to a reluctant still, allowing Zoro to catch his breath long enough to speak.

"You're… too far away," he says, staring Sanji in the eye with a glimmer of desire and embarrassment. The foot over Sanji's shoulder nudges at the back of his head, as if doing so would bring him closer, and the firefly resting on the man's chest jumps and flits away as his body tenses and shifts.

Sanji can't stop the wide grin that takes over his face, inwardly gushing over his precious, adorable boyfriend as he lets the man's leg slip from his shoulder, crossing his own legs in front of him. "Come here, then," he purrs under his breath, and Zoro promptly sits forward, not wasting a second. Sanji's still-exposed, still-sensitive cock wakes up with a start as Zoro crawls toward him and settles into his lap, with his toned arms resting over his shoulders, and his much more contented face lingering just short of Sanji's lips such that the man can feel the way he smiles even without true contact. "Better?"

"Better," Zoro muses with a slight nod. Sanji notices with a bit of shock how hard the man is, his clothed erection pressing against Sanji's half hard cock, as solid as one of his hilts. How long it's been that bad is beyond him, but he has no intention of letting it stay that way any longer. Running his thumb along the hem of Zoro's shorts, he slips the button free with a flick of his wrist, reveling in the sigh it pulls from the man.

"Tell me what you want," he says, his voice dripping with reverence as he drags the zipper down, his hand dipping in to guide Zoro's cock free.

Zoro grits his teeth on contact, his forehead pressing harder into Sanji's as he tenses in anticipation. "That… stupid, talented hand of yours. On both of us."

For the third time that night, Sanji finds himself reeling at the man's words. Without a doubt, nothing anyone has ever said to him in bed compares to that. Can he even comply, though, after already being satiated so thoroughly? Doubt gnaws at his mind for a moment, but his inner voice screaming, _"you love him, you fucking love him,"_ drowns it out entirely, and he nods and swallows thickly.

"Hold on," he murmurs, feeling Zoro's arms tighten around his neck as he leans to the side to reach the bag he'd brought along. He feels around inside and pulls out his tiny, travel-size bottle of oil, popping off the cap and drizzling some across his open palm. Zoro watches him closely as he sets the bottle in the grass with their other scattered belongings, and lets his unslicked hand rest on the man's hip, the blood flow to his cock kicking into overdrive under that hardened stare. "Ready...?"

"Yeah," Zoro replies, his steamy breath tickling the bridge of Sanji's nose as he shifts in his lap, their erections grazing and sending shiver up his spine. Sanji bites his lip and wraps his palm and four fingers around Zoro's length first, then slides his thumb around his own awoken cock and closes his grip, giving an experimental stroke up from the middle to the tip. Their size and shape are very similar, he notices, marveling at the way the slits press together, offset by just a sliver. Zoro lets out a heavy moan, his head dropping onto Sanji's shoulder from such a simple action.

"You're so sensitive," Sanji mutters in awe, sliding his hand down and back up with a gentle twist of his wrist, repeating at a leisurely pace. "It feels good, huh?" He agrees, of course, although he's not the one that's been left waiting for so long. He can practically feel Zoro's relief emanating from his entire body, enveloping them both in foggy layers of heat with every upward stroke of his oiled hand.

"Yes," Zoro hisses, his hips jerking hard into Sanji's hand as the man rolls the pad of his thumb over their heads. They both gasp as the friction he makes, and Sanji's hand jerks down quickly in reflex. The sudden slip-up in rhythm makes Zoro growl and sink his teeth into Sanji's neck, his hands knotting into the man's longer, messier hair for dear life. "Oh fuck, yes, do it faster," he groans, nuzzling the stinging teeth marks he leaves behind, scattering heavy-breathed kisses up to his ear. Sanji is all too happy to oblige, his grip loosening slightly in favor of picking up the speed.

He can tell Zoro won't last long like this, having sustained his arousal for so long already, and the building pleasure written all over his face makes it hard for Sanji to hang on either. His breath comes out unsteady as he responds to every one of Zoro's shivers and moans, focusing as closely to the other man as his lust-muddled mind will allow—if he didn't know better, he would assume that Zoro is making that as difficult for him as possible, dragging his teeth and tongue over every surface he can reach and making the most godforsaken, sultry noises in his ear that Sanji hadn't known he was capable of making. But he's glad, so fucking glad.

"Cook, I know it's late… but..." Zoro pants, shaking him out of his thoughts, his breathing ragged as he thrusts into Sanji's hand. "I love you too."

Were Sanji a weaker man, he's certain he would have come right then, a shudder tearing the air out of his lung as if he'd been punched in the stomach. The hand on Zoro's hip flies up to the back of the man's neck, hauling him into a fierce kiss that Sanji can't live another second without giving him, his thumb and fingertips digging in to keep him there. The intense, muffled noise Zoro makes into his mouth vibrates on his lips, and he swallows it down, the resonant essence of Zoro making him feel so filled he could burst.

When they break apart with blended gasps, Sanji's hold on both their cocks and the man's neck tightens, his muscles pulling taut as he feels Zoro's do the same against him. Their gazes meet with a smoldering heat, their foreheads mashing together in a surprisingly familiar way as they both tense harder, pleasure coiling inside and holding them in a mutual vice.

"Are you—?" Sanji manages to get out, the operative word catching in his throat, but Zoro nods with a choked moan, his fingers pressing impossibly harder into Sanji's hair, his arms caught in a flex that he can't break; not until they're done. But it's so, so close—he can see it in the way the man's chest incrementally rises with every swift stroke and churn of his wrist. Sanji is right there with him, ready to let himself go the moment Zoro tips over the edge.

And then Zoro shatters against him with a broken shout, the violent pulsating of his cock against Sanji's as he unloads onto his shirt bringing the other man to his peak. Sanji rides out the near painful orgasm with a shuddering groan, watching Zoro's breathtaking face twist through levels of ecstasy that he almost can't believe he was able to bring him to. He tightens around the base and gives one last gentle stroke, the last little droplet of cum squeezing out of Zoro's cock and sliding between their tips with a soft tickle. Sanji waits until Zoro's eyes crack open and the man gives him a tired smile before he allows himself to crash back onto the plush, welcoming grass with a spent sigh.

"Wow," Sanji says as his breath returns, only having the energy to turn his head to the side as Zoro slides off and collapses in a messy heap beside him.

"Yeah, wow," Zoro agrees, making a lackluster attempt to halfway zip up and fix his sweaty, grass-stained, cum-splattered shorts, before he gives up and decides he would rather have his arms crossed up behind his head instead.

Sanji watches him with a smile tugging at his sore cheeks—even his face muscles are over-exerted—as he brings himself to shift onto his side. His shirt clings to his skin as he moves, now more wet than his actual skin, and he cringes at the feeling. "Damn it, I honestly didn't think I could get any fucking sweatier, but I did. What are the chances I can get you in the bath with me tonight?"

"We're napping now," Zoro grumbles tiredly, not-so-subtly implying that there's no room for Sanji to argue. "...But we can later, if you want."

Later, Sanji decides, will work just fine. Right now, he'd rather be right here. "You and your damn cat naps," he snickers, but he slides up next to him and rests his head on the man's bicep happily. "Just this once, I'll admit that sounds like a good idea."

Zoro scoffs quietly and kisses the top of his head, wrapping his other arm around the man's waist and rubbing his thumb in small circles on the small of his back. Sanji lets out a contented hum, the sound almost lost to the chorus of cicadas around them, as he watches thin slivers of cloud pass by the moon overhead. Some other night, he'll berate himself for taking this long to open up with Zoro the way he deserves, but tonight is not that night. Tonight, he drifts to sleep at peace, in love with the man that loves him back.


End file.
